


How to woo your mortal enemy 101

by Rosie_sparks, Silverfox579



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dimension Travel, Established Relationship, Human Disaster Harry Potter, Humor, M/M, Obsessive Tom Riddle, Protective Tom Riddle, Tomarry couple adopt harry, Voldemort woos harry, light fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26387533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie_sparks/pseuds/Rosie_sparks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverfox579/pseuds/Silverfox579
Summary: Tomarry couple from another universe accidentally travel to the original one while they are making out. Now a bound Harry and a newly resurrected Voldemort are staring at hot versions of themselves making out. Harry is absolutely mortified and Voldemort is absolutely obsessed.Harry spends the rest of the summer pretending he didn't see it and Voldemort tries his darndest to seduce Harry to his bed.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 28
Kudos: 282
Collections: Harry Potter





	How to woo your mortal enemy 101

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta ThePinkJellyfish

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father," The Dark Lord hisses softly. "A Muggle and a fool, much like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death." 

Voldemort laughs again, his voice echoing around the graveyard, causing the still atmosphere to rumble with tension. He paces up and down, looking all around him as he walks, and the snake continues to circle in the grass. 

"You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who- "

Harry clenches his fist and draws blood on the palms of his already wounded hands as he hears his parents’ murderer shame and demean the life of his mother as if she were filth, filth, FILTH- that needed to be eliminated, that didn't belong here. Before he loses any sense of self preservation and says something that he would most definitely regret later, an enormous flash of lightning strikes. It rips down with thunderous force, hitting the circle’s dead center like a bull's eye where the cauldron used to be, splintering it into pieces, right where Voldemort had been resurrected.

For a moment, all Harry can hear is the sound of Voldemort’s shocked hissing. The light blinds everything for the few seconds it reigns over the area, and then fizzles out just as quickly as it appears. When his vision blurs back, what remains of the dead grass is charred a deadly black, and in the center of the destruction is-

“...you’ve got to be kidding me,” A familiar voice mutters, sounding rather irritated. Harry feels all color drain from his face as his eyes lock onto the figure of Tom Riddle, only older, all but straddling a man with rather familiar green eyes-

"And this is why you shouldn't keep shady, gaudy looking, thousand year old artifacts in our bedroom without knowing what they do." Harry - though he too, looks several years older than the boy currently trapped by a marble headstone - says glaring at Tom. "Honestly, I blame this all on you!"

Tom, still with his hands tight on adult Harry's waist, brushes away a stray curl falling across his face, as he speaks with a fond smile on his face " Ah, but my treasure, you're the one with the infamous Potter luck."

The expression, in such stark contrast to Voldemort's usual cold, emotionless, calculating, unfeeling features, that Harry is ever so familiar with, seems almost alien on Tom Riddle’s face. And yet the man under him merely sighs helplessly, his eyes filled with the warmth and love. It was as if he’d seen this expression thousands of times before, and yet still couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Adult Harry presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Tom’s mouth, as if rewarding him. But right before they part, Tom catches the back of his neck and brings them closer together, deepening the kiss.

For a moment, both Voldemort and Harry - who is still tied to the statue - can do nothing but stare as they’re ignored in favor of a rather heated snogging session. The couple on the ground show no sign of even acknowledging their existence, let alone stopping.

Harry feels heat beginning to crawl up his face and his blush deepen, moving down his neck as the few seconds extend into a minute, and then another. Mortification wars with horrible fascination, and despite the garble of protests in the back of his mind, despite his entire body screaming at him to stop gaping, he can’t look away from the pair on the floor. And neither, from the looks of things, can Voldemort.

No one speaks. No one moves, including the snake that is silently watching the whole spectacle, except Wormtail, who is still upon the ground, sobbing over his bleeding arm.

It’s only when Tom begins to slide a hand under his lover’s partially-undone shirt that Harry shakes out of his spell-bound silence and finally musters up the strength to protest.

“W-What the hell?!” His voice comes out squeakier than he’d like it to be, but at the very least, it does its job of catching their attention. And, unfortunately, Voldemort’s as well.

“Indeed,” The Dark Lord hisses out the word, his scarlet eyes glossed with curiosity, roaming over the pair. “What, exactly, is going on here?”

Tom glances at his counterpart warily, and a mixture of exasperation and disappointment flickers across his eyes. 

Seeing Tom’s unmistakably displeased expression makes Harry freeze like a deer in headlights. All of a sudden, he’s hit with the realization of just how bad this situation is. One Voldemort was bad enough, but two?

Also an incredibly delicious looki- nonono

He did not just think that. So, Harry - like any sane human being - takes that line of thought and buries it six feet underground.

The adult Harry sighs and pats Tom’s arm sympathetically, rebuttoning his shirt. “I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone this, darling. First of all…”

He flicks his hand, and Voldemort jerks in surprise when the arm of the headstone pinning Harry is abruptly yanked away, as if an invisible hand had just grabbed it and tossed it aside. 

“Wandless magic…?” Voldemort breathes, his tone both incredulous and - incredibly enough - awed. Tom shoots the Dark Lord a somewhat dark, smug smirk, looping a possessive arm around adult Harry’s waist.

His older self, for one, seems to only roll his eyes at his lover's childish antics and leans a little towards him. Harry's eyes, on the other hand, glint with a mix of both amusement and horror. The thought that no matter what version, Tom Riddle would always be a possessive bastard, sends a jolt of mirth through him, but it being directed in a romantic way rather than a need to consume, posses and devour, the thirst to hurt and take and control seems to overtake mirth only leaving him with horror.

Harry, realizing that he is free of bonds and the revolting - no, beautiful, ethereal - couple now has Voldemort's full attention, doesn’t waste the opportunity. His eyes narrow on Cedric's fallen body and the Quidditch Cup, a new wave of determination awakens him, he rolls and ducks along the ground, and races to his destination.

Voldemort seems to snap back to his usual self then, the sight of a fleeing Boy-Who-Lived automatically makes him raise his wand. Only, he doesn’t get to cast the Unforgivable on the tip of his tongue, namely because adult Harry steps in, wand raised, blurring in front of his younger self so fast that it seemed as if he’d apparated.

Tom lazily points his wand in Pettigrew’s direction, and the rat-like man squeals in terror when the blood pooling at his arm hardens into a chain-like substance, pinning him to the ground. Then, just as easily, he raises a shield between the Boy-Who-Lived and the rest of the adults in the graveyard.

“Sorry, Tom.” Harry says cheekily, grinning at his lover's counterpart as he raises up multiple layers of shield charms. “Can’t have you killing me before we fall in love”

Voldemort lets out an inarticulate sound of rage and raises his wand to curse the impudent brat, but pauses in his tracks when Tom steps up beside his lover, raising an unimpressed brow as if challenging him to hurt his lover. For a brief second, the Dark Lord visibly hesitates, uncertain as he assesses his other self.

However, his apprehension seems to give way to his infamous rage as he hardens himself and slashes his wand through the still air with deadly grace. Tom counters, and Harry launches the counterattack. The other Harry, cradling Cedric’s cooling corpse, watches in awe as the pair effortlessly work together to suppress the Dark Lord. Every moment is filled with utter trust and awareness of the other. Forget team- team doesn’t even begin to describe, in Harry’s opinion, the level of unity they display. 

Around then, the snake finally begins to stir, and to his utter horror, sliters towards his adult self. "Master's mate must be protected," Nagini hisses, taking a protective stance next to the fighting adult. Harry catches bits and pieces of a parseltongue conversation, though he doesn’t pay attention to it long enough to really understand what’s being argued. However, it's clear that Voldemort is nowhere near pleased with his snake if the look of disapproval is anything to go by. He glares at his snake as though it has sacrificed his first born to demons.

His adult self looks smugly at the snake's actions and holds his ground against the feared Dark Lord. As the air grows thicker with tension, Harry watches in amazement at the display of magic being wrought. Older Harry seems to predict what curses Voldemort will throw before the man even begins the wandwork. He wonders for a brief moment if he’ll ever reach that level of understanding, and then balks. He should be working on getting out of here, not understanding Voldemort!

Glancing around, he realizes that all four - if you count Pettigrew - adults are occupied with, well, each other. Harry slowly shuffles toward the fallen cup. When no one turns back to notice, he gingerly reaches down, and then carefully levitates it.

Sneaking back to Cedric’s body, he hastily dodges a stray curse. Harry’s attacks against Voldemort grow more intense, sparks and spells flying and light flashing across the graveyard in a spectacular light show.

The Dark Lord tries some absurdly complicated wand movement to which his older self laughs softly. “Darling, don’t bother- we both know that curse has always evaded you.”

Voldemort’s wordless screech of rage sends a spark through Harry's spine, though it only serves to make his adult self more amused. Tom’s shoulders rise and fall briefly in a ‘what-can-you-do’ sort of shrug, and without prompting, they both launch the same spell at Voldemort.

The Dark Lord retaliates in time with a jet of bright red light, and as all three spells head toward each other, Harry picks up his pace and lunges for Cedric’s body, snagging the portkey at the same time.

His eyes briefly catch the immense explosion that rips through the area before his body is suddenly lurched sideways. Before he knows it, he’s tumbling onto gritty dirt, a deafening cheer replacing the sounds of dueling.

Shocked silence ripples through the stands, and Harry almost shouts in relief when he sees Dumbeldore racing toward him. Finally, someone normal-!

Frantic and worried choruses of 'what happened' and 'oh dear' seem to echo in his mind repeatedly. Harry finally gets his mind and voice to cooperate to form a believable lie, not wanting the entire wizarding world to learn about the make out session of an older Harry Potter and a hotter Dark Lord. And possibly to protect hot Tom Riddle.

"Death eaters.…. Ah- revenge." He groans breathlessly. And then, unceremoniously, he drops in a dead faint.

***

The deafening crack of portkey draws Voldemort's gaze to the now empty space from where the Boy-Who-Lived had disappeared using the cup. This revelation brings yet another bolt of fury in him as he realizes that he - Lord Voldemort, the Heir to Slytherin, the most powerful wizard in the world, rightful ruler of the- has lost the pest again.

The duo, taking advantage of this diversion, move forward to surround him and spring right back into action. Tom slashes his wand across and disarms him with a simple expelliarmus while Harry proceeds to bind him up with newly conjured vines that tighten up to transfigure themselves into beautiful golden colored, thick metal straps.

"Well, don't you look pretty all tied up in gold" the older looking Potter grins at him, his eyes glimmering with mischief.

Voldemort, enraged, flexes his magic against the metal in a futile attempt to escape the bindings. He turns to glare at Potter when he feels the shields around his magic. Only when he sees his counterpart summoning a few rather familiar objects does his glare move from Potter. With a growing dread, the bound dark lord realises what those are - horcruxes.

However, along with those objects, an unfamiliar and distasteful sight fills Voldemort - a sleeping harry potter!? - he shakes his head again to get a good look. Apparently that was exactly what he thought it was, the peaceful body of the little Potter all content, wound nursed and health restored.

For a second his magic almost seems to want to curl around the boy protectively rather than harm him. With the night fallen and moonlight glistening, Voldemort notices that the boy looks ethereal, though he would rather impale himself on the Gryffindor sword than admit this fact.

The older Potter exchanges an indescribable look with his other self, who just nods as if that look explains everything and waves his wand, making the sleeping boy vanish.

Voldemort observes his surroundings to find a way out of this situation and escape from this blasted nightmare - for this ridiculous event could only ever be a dream. He notices an unconscious Pettigrew - maybe dead from the blood loss - not that he cares much anyway, but another wizard (if you can call Pettigrew that) on his side could certainly prove to be useful.

Turning away to find anything vaguely beneficial, he spots Nagini. At the sight of a bound and unconscious Nagini, Voldemort finds himself worrying - no seething, raging.

It brings back the memory of when he had been a mere wraith flowing around the expanse of the Albanian forest, when he found the little snake, for Nagini had just hatched when he found her. He got himself a companion during a time of desperate hopelessness as she whispered and hissed soothing reassurances.

"What do you think you are doing!?" The dark wizard bellows in anger as his blood boils with the combined humiliation of being bound and helpless and weak and unable to save his most prized possessions, his Nagini - a companion that he dearly cares for.

His other self, however, seems to be completely unfazed and resumes his work with the ritual circles - familiar ones that do nothing to ease up his worries - as he hums a mellow tune. Another beautiful hum joins the previous one as Tom's lover moves his wand in delicate patterns, adding details to the glowing markings. The graceful movement of their wands and the golden lines that flow through and around the graveyard combining with the warm, rich, melodious symphony, resembles something of a dance between two lovers as the moonlight falls upon the pair and creates an unearthly glow.

The air around them swifts and thrums, heavy with ritual magic, the kind that will choke and overwhelm any lesser wizard. Anger and reason forgotten, Voldemort can only stare breathlessly in awe as he witnesses the beginning of an ancient ritual.

Tom starts reciting phrases in high Latin as the Potter boy finishes the rest of the drawings. 

A choked noise escapes him as he feels something reach down and tug at his navel as if to pull out his very soul. His diary raises high in the air, emanating a glow as Potter joins his lover, finishing the rest of the phrases.

With despair, Voldemort realizes what a fool he'd been, letting ritual magic draw his attention from the current situation. This thought, however, only lasts for a fleeting moment before an unimaginable pain, stinging like a thrust of a thousand needles into his veins, courses through him.

Groaning and forcing himself to stay conscious, his pain-riddled brain recognises something resembling a spirit-like form - his soul, he realises - is flowing from his diary and pushing and thrusting and forcing itself into him.

His soul, it seems, at the same time both yearns and spurns for the piece he tore away from it to secure his immortality.

The effects of the absorption of the horcrux hits him immediately, he finds himself regaining a few of his physical attributes, his mind seems much clearer and his magic is less restless and more in control. He craves more, wants more, needs more. Afterall, his greatest desire in life is control, why would he deny a ritual that gives him more control of his magic.

"We can't do the entire ritual today. He can't take it all in one day," a concerned voice from faraway seems to call out. It seems odd, Voldemort thinks, having such worry and fondness being shown towards him.

"I understand you worry, my love, but you know this has to happen all at once for his soul to stabilize. Besides, I know my pain tolerance and I have faced worse," his other self, he deduces, answers back. The Dark Lord finds himself unable to demerit the statement for he has certainly faced worse.

The Gaunt ring follows up in the air and before he can breathe the pain out, a new wave resumes again and is somehow much more painful than the last.

Somewhere during the fourth object, he finds himself slipping from the conscious world.

He uses everything he can to stay awake, uses the pain, the clarity, his magic, but they all prove unfruitful to his exhausted soul.

"We're losing him…….,"

"Tom, he's falling unconscious. We need to…..,"

Exerting himself to hear a few last words, he falls into oblivion.

***

"No…n-nghhh—" Harry desperately tries to pry away the hands that roam around his bare torso.

"Oh Harry, I never realized you were the one I craved for all my life," a familiar pair of red eyes look into—

Harry jolts awake with a gasp and finds himself at the gates of Hogwarts. Confused, he wonders how he ended up here when he was peacefully sleeping in the hospital wing, dreaming happily- no, No. He refuses to think of his dream.

In his sleep induced haze, he concludes that he might've sleepwalked and goes back to the castle completely ignorant of the fact that he had just been summoned and brought back from the graveyard for the second time that day.

**Author's Note:**

> Harry when he realises the one Tom Riddle is making out with is his older self :


End file.
